Hope poems

 / page 31 of 439 /
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Washington!

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

Feb. 22, 1732
BRIGHT natal morn! what face appears
Beyond the rolling mist of years?
A face whose loftiest traits, combine

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Childish Recollections

© George Gordon Byron

'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'
WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins

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The Daemon Of The World

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Nec tantum prodere vati,
Quantum scire licet. Venit aetas omnis in unam
Congeriem, miserumque premunt tot saecula pectus.

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21st September 1870

© Charles Kingsley

Speak low, speak little; who may sing
While yonder cannon-thunders boom?
Watch, shuddering, what each day may bring:
Nor 'pipe amid the crack of doom.'

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The Devil Of Pope-Fig Island

© Jean de La Fontaine

ON t'other hand an island may be seen,
Where all are hated, cursed, and full of spleen.
We know them by the thinness of their face
Long sleep is quite excluded from their race.

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On The Lord's Prayer

© Charles Lamb

I have taught your young lips the good words to say over,
 Which form the petition we call the Lord's Prayer,
And now let me help my dear child to discover
 The meaning of all the good words that are there.

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Eclogue:--The Times

© William Barnes

  Aye, John, I have, John; an' I ben't afeärd
  To own it. Why, who woulden do the seäme?
  We shant goo on lik' this long, I can tell ye.
  Bread is so high an' wages be so low,
  That, after workèn lik' a hoss, you know,
  A man can't eärn enough to vill his belly.

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Heath from the Highlands

© Henry Kendall

Here, where the great hills fall away
To bays of silver sea,
I hold within my hand to-day
A wild thing, strange to me.

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To Marie Louise (Shew)

© Edgar Allan Poe

  Of all who hail thy presence as the morning-

  Of all to whom thine absence is the night-

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The Stream Is Flowing From The West

© Henry Timrod

The stream is flowing from the west;
As if it poured from yonder skies,
It wears upon its rippling breast
The sunset's golden dyes;
And bearing onward to the sea,
'T will clasp the isle that holdeth thee.

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The Things That Count

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Now, dear, it isn't the bold things,

Great deeds of valour and might,

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The Two Painters: A Tale

© Washington Allston

 At which, with fix'd and fishy
The Strangers both express'd amaze.
Good Sir, said they, 'tis strange you dare
Such meanness of yourself declare.

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To... (Kern)

© Alexander Pushkin

I still recall the wondrous moment
When you appeared before my eyes,
Just like a fleeting apparition,
Just like pure beauty's distillation.

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The four Seasons of the Year.

© Anne Bradstreet

Spring.

Another four I've left yet to bring on,

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The Sleep of Sigismund

© Jean Ingelow

The doom'd king pacing all night through the windy fallow.
'Let me alone, mine enemy, let me alone,'
Never a Christian bell that dire thick gloom to hallow,
Or guide him, shelterless, succourless, thrust from his own.

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Airs For The Lute

© Arthur Symons

All, that hands upon the lute
Helped the voices to declare,
Voices mute
But for this, might I not share,
If, alas, I could but suit-
Hand and voice unto the lute!

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None Other Lamb

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

None other Lamb, none other Name,
None other hope in Heav’n or earth or sea,
None other hiding place from guilt and shame,
None beside Thee!

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Boadicea. An Ode

© William Cowper

When the British warrior queen, 

  Bleeding from the Roman rods, 

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Absence

© Frances Anne Kemble

What shall I do with all the days and hours

  That must be counted ere I see thy face?

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Sonnet IX. To A Virtuous Young Lady

© John Milton

Lady that in the prime of earliest youth,
Wisely hath shun'd the broad way and the green,
And with those few art eminently seen,
That labour up the Hill of heav'nly Truth,